Between Textbooks and Bedsheets
by ClassicallyYours
Summary: College AU: In which Pitch is an esteemed professor of eastern European history at the same college which Jack, a cocky slacker of a freshman, attends. BlackIce. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Jack couldn't help but admit to himself that he was slightly nervous as his long, pale fingers rested gently on the door's old brass knob. Regardless, he took in a deep breath, straightened his posture, and turned the knob with such resolve that the door flew open and he halfway fell into his professor's office. He quickly recovered with a slight hop as he turned to smile at the older man.

"Hey, Dr. Pitch," Jack greeted him enthusiastically. The professor rolled his eyes.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Frost?" Pitch's voice dripped with sarcasm. It was one of the many traits for which he was known around campus.

Jack stood awkwardly next to a chair that sat in front of Pitch's desk. The office was small and cramped, with only a skylight window for any natural lighting. That is, if it hadn't been completely blocked out by a cheap plastic shade. The walls of the room were lined with old bookshelves that housed tomes upon tomes of history books. Professor Kozmotis Pitchiner sat idly at his desk in front of an older looking laptop and a stack of neatly organized papers.

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, trying to remove some of the evident stress from the situation. "So, I was hoping we could maybe talk about my term paper..."

Pitch couldn't help but laugh at that. "Ha! Your term paper. You don't happen to mean the one that's due on Wednesday?"

Jack fumbled with his fingers inside of his pocket, a nervous tic that he was thankful the professor couldn't see at the moment. "Well, yeah, I guess, if you want to put it like that."

"Jack, it's Monday."

"Yeah, well," Jack finally walked over and flopped down into the chair. "I know. But here's the thing, see—" he paused for dramatic effect, drawing his hands out of his pockets to emphasize his point, "—I have an idea for a topic, a-and it's a great one in fact—"

"What is it?" Pitch asked apathetically.

"Umm... What?"

"Your idea," Pitch leaned forward on his desk with his elbows, pressing the tips of his fingers together as he stared pointedly at the flustered freshman. "Please, I'd love to hear it."

Jack paused for a moment, not having expected that he would have actually had to come up with an idea for a paper to work out his bullshit excuse for getting out of the assignment. "Well. Umm... I was thinking about talking about, say, Peter the Great."

Pitch's frustration was evident in his terse sigh. "Mr. Frost you do realize that this class is about 20th century Russia." Jack nodded. Pitch looked at him as if he had sprouted another head. "Peter the Great died in 1725."

Jack mentally slapped himself for that one, but attempted to make a clean recovery. "Well, yeah, I wanted to examine his more, uh, far-reaching effects on, you know, Russian society."

"Oh?" Pitch leaned back slightly. "And how are you going to incorporate modern industrialism into that?"

Jack visibly flinched. "Uh… What?"

Pitch sat back in his desk chair and wearily rubbed his face with his hands. "The course title is _Industrial Moscow in the 20__th__ Century_. Look, Jack, it's obvious you haven't prepared for this paper, and it's obvious you're not going to_ be _prepared. You have tried to give me an excuse for every single assignment you have been given this semester. It's not going to work. If you don't finish that paper, you're going to fail the class."

Jack bit his lip. The prospect of failure didn't bode well to him. He decided maybe an appeal to pity would be his best bet for a pass. "Please, Pitch—"

"Dr. Pitchiner," the professor interrupted him.

"— I need to pass this class. If I don't I'm going to be put on academic probation." Jack exhaled sharply, his bangs fluttering briefly as it passed them by. "And I just can't have that happen to me."

"Why?" Pitch folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe it will do you some good. Maybe it's time you learn the bitterness of failure."

Jack sunk down into his own chair. Every professor he had had in the past had been so easy to break. But there was something different about Pitch. He wouldn't let Jack just slide by. He always had to make things difficult.

Pitch could see the boy was getting upset and embarrassed. He looked up at the clock on the wall, noting that his office hours were already over. But he couldn't leave yet. He was determined to make Jack understand. Scooting his chair forward, he logged into his laptop and began pulling up the boy's files from high school.

"This is what I don't understand, Jack," Pitch began. "You showed such promise. High honor roll every year since the 9th grade. Salutatorian of your graduating class. President of the debate club and head of the lacrosse team. You came in with 42 credits. So why don't you live up to all of those accomplishments?"

Jack didn't answer. He was too embarrassed. He had gone in there to get his name cleared, and now he was winding up getting lectured on his morals. He felt like a little kid again.

Pitch looked at him with earnest concern. "What happened, Jack?"

Jack just looked to his side and shrugged his shoulders. Even though he was embarrassed, he was also pretty miffed that Pitch was treating him like a toddler. After a few moments of awkward silence, he sighed. He answered quietly, shame evident in his voice, "I don't know. I guess I just worked so hard in high school, I forgot what it was like to have fun. When I got to college that's all I did. I just decided to have fun. I just... I guess I just pushed work to the side."

Pitch shook his head in disappointment. "You can do both, Jack." Jack looked up at him. Despite the fact his professor made him feel like a complete failure, his sincere emotions made him think that maybe Pitch actually cared about him. Now it was Pitch gave a sidelong glance to the wall. "You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. I was reckless and wild... But I was ambitious, too." Pitch looked back to Jack, studying him carefully. "I believe you have a bit of that ambition in you."

Jack's breath hitched in his throat. He felt like a piece of glass, like he was completely transparent to Pitch's intense gaze. Pitch held his stare for a moment before sighing and rubbing his face with his hands. "Alright. I know you won't get the twelve to fifteen pages done by Wednesday. But if you can at least give me something, maybe I will consider giving you a grade I believe worthy of your intellectual work."

Normally, with any other professor, Jack would jump up and thank them profusely as he sauntered out the door. But this time, it was different. This time, he felt like he actually had something to lose if he didn't complete the assignment. He didn't know what it was, maybe Pitch's bizarre respect for him or his presently wounded pride, but he knew he would take this assignment seriously. He nodded thoughtfully. "Alright," he said softly. "I won't disappoint you."

Pitch smiled at him. "I know you won't. Now, its quarter after five and my office hours are over. Go on and head home so you can get started."

Jack just nodded as he got up and walked to the door, as if in a trance. He shut it behind him quietly, leaving Pitch alone in the darkened room. Pitch let out a deep breath as he turned his gaze to the ceiling, wondering if he had just done the right thing.


	2. Chapter 2

That Wednesday at five o'clock, Pitch found himself glaring furiously at the time display on his laptop. Jack hadn't showed up to class, there was no paper dropped off in his mailbox, and his office hours had just come to an end. He had come to the frustrating realization that Jack was and always would be a slacker. He began to pack the other students' papers into a leather brief case when the door to his office flew open and Jack tumbled in, slamming a paper onto his professor's desk.

Pitch's mouth opened to say something, but he couldn't find the words. "Jack—" he fumbled over the boy's name. "I… It's…" He inhaled quickly and attempted to regain his composure. "You're late."

Jack raised his clouded blue eyes to meet Pitch's glaring yellow ones. He was panting and sweating like he had just run all the way across campus—which he very well may have.

"I-It's fifteen pages," Jack huffed.

"What?" Pitch was visibly taken aback. "You wrote a fifteen page research paper in _two days_?"

Jack nodded wearily, stepping back from the desk and immediately collapsing into the guest chair. "I've been up for forty-eight hours. I skipped all of my other classes yesterday and today." He threw his hands over his face in utter exhaustion. "I have sixteen sources. Primary and secondary. I met all of the requirements." His hands fell to his sides limply as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He paused to catch his breath. "I'm sorry… It's late."

Pitch looked at the paper that sat on the desk before him and then back at Jack. He was at a complete loss for words. Never in his career as a history professor had he had someone complete the entire term paper, research and all, over the course of two days.

Transfixed by the impossible paper, he gingerly picked it up and began to leaf through it. Everything looked perfect. The footnotes were done in flawless Turabian, the pages were numbered in the format he had requested, and the bibliography did indeed contain sixteen sources, alphabetized and properly indented. There were no rookie mistakes in formatting like he might have expected from a freshman. He turned back to the cover page to see if Jack had titled it properly. It read "PETER THE GREAT AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF INDUSTRIALISM," followed by the mandatory heading below. Pitch smiled and shook his head skeptically.

"I don't know how you did it, Mr. Frost," he began to say before he looked up and saw the pale teen passed out in his chair. Pitch blinked at him for a moment, and then looked at the clock on his laptop. It was ten past five, and he knew he had to go. He rose from his desk and walked over to the boy, crouching by his side as he tried to coax him awake. "Jack. Jack, it's time for me to go." There was no response. Pitch shook his shoulder gently. The boy was firmly passed out.

Pitch stood back up and stretched, contemplating the predicament. Jack obviously hadn't gotten enough sleep, if any, in the past two days, and whether or not he had been eating and drinking enough was another problem altogether. A look of worry set over Pitch's brow as he considered how to handle the situation.

He went back to his desk, shut off his laptop, and began to pack himself up. Again, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

Jack woke up like a two-year-old who had been carried up to bed after passing out on the sofa the night before. He didn't really care where he was or what time it was, just that he had his head on a pillow and a warm, plush comforter over his body. He made a small sound like a stunted yawn as he stretched his arms out over his head, knocking against a wooden headboard in the process. He finally decided to open his eyes wearily upon the realization that this could not possibly be his dorm room, but he still wasn't sure where the last place he had fallen asleep was so he decided not to panic. For all he knew, he could have fallen asleep in some luxuriously comfy queen-sized bed.

"Ah, good. You're awake," came a voice from the corner of the room. It was a familiar voice… But not the good kind of familiar… The kind of familiar that implied that Jack was somewhere he was not supposed to be with someone he was not supposed to be with. Wearily, he blinked his eyes as he pushed down on the bed and hoisted himself into a sitting position. When he saw who the owner of the familiar voice was was when he decided to panic.

"Dr. Pitch!" Jack exclaimed, eyes widening. "I'm so sorry, I… I feel asleep in… Where am I?"

Pitch closed the book he had been reading and set it on an end table beside the Victorian-style armchair that he was sitting in. He interlaced his hands over his crossed knees, looking very formal and collected in the process. "Well, after you fell asleep in my office you wouldn't wake up. I decided that while calling campus first response may have been an option, you probably wouldn't have wanted all of the to-do over a little sleep exhaustion and an empty stomach. So I brought you back to my house, and that's where we are now. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Jack began to say when his stomach interrupted him. He chuckled awkwardly and shrugged.

Pitch smiled knowingly. "To your right."

Jack looked beside him to find the tastiest looking ham sandwich he had seen in his life. It may have looked so tasty because he hadn't eaten since he'd had a bag of Goldfish crackers and a Mountain Dew the night before, but regardless it was one delicious looking sandwich. He tried not to appear too hasty as he transferred the plate from the table and onto his lap. He looked up at Pitch before completely losing his composure and just stuffing the thing into his mouth. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Pitch replied. He then rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door. "Would you like something to drink with that?"

Jack looked up from his meal only briefly to reply between bites, "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"I'll get you a glass of water then," Pitch replied as he exited the room. "Who knows, you may very well be dehydrated, too."

Jack heard him trot down the stairs and decided now was his chance to unabashedly devour the sandwich. It took him less than thirty seconds and by the time he was done he realized he should have probably eaten it slower. As he licked his fingers clean he looked around the room. Everything was very Victorian, from the headboard of the bed he still sat in to the dresser on the other side of the room and, from what he could see of it, the sink in the bathroom attached to the bedroom. However, the room itself wasn't nearly as big or grandiose as one might expect with such furniture. The ceiling was fairly low, and slanted down towards the wall the bed was pressed against. Against that wall, two windows looked out onto a street that Jack was fairly familiar with, and he was glad to know he wasn't that far from campus.

Despite the intensity with which he inspected the room, he was still alerted to Pitch striding up the stairs by the characteristic creak each step let out. Pitch came in with a glass of water in one hand and a mug with a teabag in it in the other.

He smiled as he handed Jack the water. "Thanks," Jack said quietly, taking a sip. As soon as he did, he realized how thirsty he was, and immediately took another.

Pitch took his seat back in the armchair next to the door. Jack looked at him for a moment and noticed how casual he looked outside of school, sitting comfortably in the chair as he sipped his tea quietly. His white dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. He looked much more comfortable than he ever did in his stuffy office. "I read over your paper," he said.

"What did you think?" Jack asked, perhaps too eager to hear Pitch's reaction.

"Why don't we go down to the kitchen and talk about it," Pitch suggested, and nodded towards the door.

Jack nodded and moved to raise himself up out of the bed. His knees did feel a little wobbly when he first put his feet to the floor, but he didn't feel ready to collapse like he had in Pitch's office. The two made their way down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen of Pitch's cozy home. The style of the house matched the bedroom: small and comfortable, but not too cramped. Pitch took a seat at the small table in his kitchen and Jack took the one across from him. He felt tense as he waited to hear what Pitch had to say.

"Well," Pitch began, "I must say, for having written it in two days you did an incredible job. You did well analyzing your sources and presented your argument in a clear, concise manner. That said…" He looked Jack straight in the eye. His gaze was nonthreatening, but serious and sincere nonetheless. "It could have been much better. Yes, you did have the amount of required sources, but you seemed to stretch to incorporate a few into the body of your paper. If you had started your research when I had advised you to, you would have found much more relevant sources and been able to get rid of the more extraneous ones. There's also a lot of fluff towards the end where it seems you may have lost sight of your conclusion." He flipped the paper to the final page and handed it to Jack. "Nevertheless, I gave you an A-. Well done."

"Thank you," was all Jack could say. He leafed through the paper himself now, noticing the extensive red markings on every page. He had to admit, he was actually surprised that he had managed to pull an A-.

"So," Pitch said, pulling Jack back out of his thoughts, "There are some points you make in there that I had never heard before. They're really quite fascinating. What exactly is the scholarly debate over whether it was Peter or Catherine who set the stage for modernization?"

"Well, it's really interesting, especially because they ruled so far apart…"

The two sat at Pitch's kitchen table for at least another hour, discussing the inner workings of Peter's regime and whether or not he really did that much to contribute to industrialism. Pitch quickly discovered that although Jack never handed in his assignments or did any of the readings, he paid so much attention in class that he was able to quote Pitch's lectures word-for-word. The topics shifted from history and Russia to college itself, as the two discussed their favorite places on campus to pick up coffee and a bagel and what professors clearly did not deserve their tenure. After Jack did a spot-on impression mocking one of the stuffier professors, Pitch was almost reduced to tears from laughing so hard. As both of them regained their composure, Jack checked the front display of his phone for the time. It was almost eleven.

"Oh, wow, I should probably head out," he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "I don't wanna become a permanent squatter in your house or anything."

"You're perfectly fine, don't worry about it," Pitch replied. The two rose from their seats and began to make their way to Pitch's front door. "Really, stop by any time you'd like. You're always welcome."

"Thanks," Jack said sheepishly, half blushing. "I might just take you up on that offer next time I decide to write a term paper in two days."

Pitch smirked as he opened the door for Jack. "Goodnight, Mr. Frost. I'll see you on Friday."

"Goodnight," Jack said as he left. On his way down the walk he turned briefly to tell Pitch one last thing, "And thanks again!"

Pitch nodded and gave him a brief wave before closing the door. "Don't mention it," he sighed contentedly to himself.

With that, Pitch decided to retire for the night. As he fell asleep underneath the warm blankets of his bed he swore he could smell a strange but familiar scent on his pillow. It was pleasant and alluring, and managed to twist its way into the depths of his dreams. He had never slept more soundly.

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Ok, hey guys, so first of all, thanks for the overwhelming support. Wow. I'm totally amazed at how many of you have favorited, followed, and reviewed this and quite frankly I'm speechless. This is my first time seriously writing fan fiction and I'm really kinda clueless and hope I'm doing everything right. So please, keep reviewing and let me know what you think! I really appreciate feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome (unlike most people, I sincerely mean that).

And if anyone's been wondering, yes it is totally possible to write a fifteen-page term paper in two days and get an A-. I have done it before. It just takes a lot of energy drinks and spending every waking hour of your existence in the library. At the end, you slowly slip into a coma between the pages of presidential addresses as you question why you ever decided to become a history major in the first place.

Also, if you weren't aware, I draw fan art, too! Check my profile for the link to my tumblr. And on a final note, sorry the updates are few and far between. College is a bitch. Until next time~


	3. Chapter 3

And then it was the end of the semester. Jack went home for winter break, while Pitch, with no family or friends to visit, stayed home by himself. He couldn't help but look at Jack's file just one more time to see where the boy was spending his holiday season while he was stuck on an empty campus in northern Pennsylvania. Maryland sounded like a much nicer place to be. Pitch wondered if he was enjoying himself. Then he shook the thought out of his head as he rose from his desk to fix a cup of tea.

Despite the fact that it was spring semester when the students returned to campus, the college was covered in snow. Pitch wasn't surprised; he had lived there long enough to know that it wouldn't be until at least March that the town would begin to thaw. Jack was happy to be back. The snow and ice were his element, and he had gotten bored of the mild temperatures and infrequent precipitation at home. Back at school, he took up his work with a new zeal, but still made time for sledding and snowball fights with the other students from his dorm.

Pitch had honestly thought that he would never see Jack again, since the freshman didn't have any classes with him this time around. He was completely taken by surprise when, a little more than a week into the semester, Jack showed up at his office with a packet of papers in his hands.

"Uh, hi," Jack greeted him, sheepishly standing by the door frame. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Pitch replied, turning from his computer to give Jack his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to change my major," Jack said. "I mean, the biology program here is great, and Professor Tooth has been an awesome advisor, but my passion's just not there. I thought I wanted to be a doctor, but after having that class with you and all…"

"You decided slaving away for a history degree that will get you nowhere was more enticing than working towards a six figure salary?"

Jack furrowed his brow. "If you wanna look at it like that, I guess."

Pitch chuckled and held out his hand. "Just poking fun, Jack. There are a lot of things you can do with a degree in history. I'll be happy to sign those papers for you."

Jack relaxed and smiled, relieved that Pitch had just been joking. He would have to get used to his dry humor if Pitch was going to be his new advisor.

From that day on, Jack was in his office at least once a week. The two talked about everything from books they had been reading to classes Jack should take and how horrible the History Channel had gotten. Jack would usually stick around until another student came in to talk to Pitch about something class related, or until his office hours ended. Then he would walk with him to his car on his way back to his dorm.

At first, Pitch was a little worried about how close they were becoming. He wondered what people thought as the two talked for hours, sometimes about history and other times just about life. He wondered if the rest of the history department was becoming suspicious as other professors passed his office and saw Jack enthusiastically recounting his exploits from the previous weekend with candid detail.

But then he realized it didn't matter what anyone else though of their peculiar relationship. Pitch enjoyed Jack's company, and it was obvious Jack enjoyed his. Perhaps they were a quirky couple, but as Pitch realized more and more just how mature the eighteen-year-old was, he began to see him less as a student and more as a close friend. Such relationships were common at the small college, with some students going to professor's houses for dinner or professors taking particular students under their wings as unofficial apprentices.

But this was different. Pitch wasn't married. Pitch lived alone. Pitch was a solitary individual. Pitch had never had that kind of relationship with a student before.

Pitch thought about telling Jack that they were getting too close, that their relationship was compromising both of their reputations. And, admittedly, that Pitch was in it for all of the wrong reasons. He resolved to do it one day and was preparing himself for Jack's visit when the teen sullenly appeared at the door.

"Hi," Jack mumbled as he let himself in, closing the door behind him and going to his regular seat in front of Pitch's desk.

Pitch stared at him for a moment, growing worried. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Jack slowly rubbed his face with his hands and hiccupped, obviously trying to hold back tears. "It's… I came out to my parents."

The words hit Pitch like bullets. "Uh-um," Pitch stuttered a bit, not quite sure how to approach the situation. "Well… How did they take it?"

"How do you _think _they took it?" Jack retorted, lifting his tear-stained face from his hands. "I look like I'm straight out of a fucking Dashboard Confessional music video over here."

"I'm sorry, I just…" Pitch sat back in his chair a bit, creating distance between them. "I just don't know what to say."

Jack shrugged his shoulders, and said with a bit of spite in his voice, "I don't know, maybe tell me it's going to be alright? Maybe tell me I'm not a fucking waste of space?"

"You already know what I think of you, Jack—"

"But do you even know what I think of you?"

The room was suddenly blaringly silent. Pitch sat, frozen, his mouth slightly agape, trying to process what Jack had just said.

Jack glared at the floor as he spat out his words, "I mean, I knew I was gay since tenth grade, I didn't need any more reassurance of that. That's bad enough, apparently. But then I get to college and find out I've got a thing for my professor? How fucking wrong is that?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, Jack," Pitch tried to comfort him. "It's just that—that…"

"That I'm sick? That I'm messed up?" Jack rose to his feet and pointed violently at Pitch, "Don't you dare try to tell me that it's ok when I know there's no way in a million years you would ever feel the same way!"

"God damn it, Jack!" Pitch slammed his hands on his desk and vaulted from his own chair. "Don't you dare try to tell me how I feel when I've been trying this whole time to ignore it!"

Jack froze for a moment. Then he quietly uttered, "You… You what?"

Pitch fell back into his desk chair and ran a hand through his hair, balling his fist in it out of stress. "What do you mean, 'what?' You heard me. Good God, you think you have it bad? I was fully planning on telling you we should cool it down today before you marched in here and made matters worse."

Pitch's words cut Jack like a knife. He awkwardly put his hands in his hoodie pocket and took a step back, slinking back into himself. "I'm sorry… I didn't know…"

The professor sighed, automatically regretting everything he had just said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that…"

But Jack had already sat himself back in the chair and curled his knees up to his face. Pitch felt his heart sink just looking at him. He got up and walked over to the boy, kneeling in front of him and placing a comforting hand on his knee.

"I didn't mean any of that. I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't want you to get too close to me. I didn't want you to get hurt by anyone. But now I realize it's too late for that…"

"You don't mean that," Jack muttered into his knees.

"I do, I really do," Pitch said as sincerely as possible. "I was afraid of us becoming too close, and what others may have thought. I didn't want you to get kicked out of school, Jack. You're so young. You have so much ahead of you. It would be stupid of me to risk all of that."

"You wouldn't be the one risking it," Jack said evenly. "I would."

"I wouldn't let you."

"Oh?" Jack unfolded his knees from his chest and placed his hands on Pitch's cheeks. He leaned forward and whispered, "You wouldn't?" before placing a kiss on his lips.

In that moment, Pitch felt like he was on fire. He knew this was wrong and he cursed himself for having wanted it so badly. But Jack's lips were so soft, and they felt like they belonged on his. The sensation melted right through his resolve and left him kneeling on the floor dumbfounded, not quite sure how to react.

He looked up at Jack and was surprised by what he saw. Despite such a forward action, tears were welling up in the boy's bright blue eyes. How could he not pity such a tragically beautiful creature?

Pitch couldn't believe what he was doing as he pressed his lips softly against Jack's cheeks, and then against his lips once more. Jack sniffled a little and then fell forward into Pitch's arms, wrapping his arms around him and pushing his head into the space between his neck and shoulders. Pitch placed a shaking hand on Jack's head and stroked his hair gently.

After a moment of this, Jack raised his head again and met Pitch's eyes. He curled his fingers into his hair and pulled him forward, kissing him again, but this time with more passion and abandon. Pitch gave up entirely and let himself melt into Jack's touch. He knew this was wrong, he knew it was so wrong and that Jack was young and reckless and emotional right now but God if he wasn't trying with all of his might to resist it. He knew he couldn't. He was a broken man.

They sat there on the floor like that, their bodies intertwined, enjoying the taste of each other's lips and exploring the depths of each other's mouths. Pitch's breath hitched in the back of his throat when he realized he could feel Jack's erection pressing against his stomach. He pulled away abruptly and shot the other a worried look.

"Jack, I think we should stop," Pitch tried to say with as much authority in his voice as possible.

"I don't think you do," Jack breathed, leaning forward and placing a hand on Pitch's own hardened crotch.

Pitch hissed quietly as the boy began to rub him rhythmically. "For the love of God, Jack, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into…"

"Maybe not. But that's what makes it fun," he said with a slight smile, pressing his lips to Pitch's collarbone. He began to unbutton the professor's shirt, leaving kisses with every inch of skin he exposed.

"Y-you've had a long day," Pitch stammered, as he backed himself away from Jack. Jack just moved forward, pinning Pitch between his own body and the desk. "You're very emotional right now, and, quite frankly, this is not the best place for this."

"Come on, you've never dreamt about having a little fun in your office?" Jack snickered. His kissed just above Pitch's navel.

"Well honestly I—ah!" Pitch threw his head back as Jack trailed his tongue below his belly button. "Please, you don't have to…"

Jack looked up at him earnestly for a moment. Pitch stared down at him and huffed slightly, his breath coming out in an uneven rhythm. "I don't have to, but I want to… Do you?"

Pitch swore to all of the collective deities of the universe as he whispered without pausing to think, "_Yes._"

Jack wasted no time in unbuttoning and unzipping Pitch's trousers and pulling them down with a hasty jerk. Without warning, he took Pitch in his mouth, causing the other to gasp. He didn't say anything, but wove his hands into Jack's hair, watching him through half-lidded eyes as his head bobbed up and down, slowly at first but then picking up pace. Pitch was afraid he'd lose it before he remembered something.

"Fuck… Jack, wait."

Jack stopped suddenly, "What?"

"It isn't locked," Pitch nodded his head towards the door.

Jack sighed as he got up to go secure the lock. "We were just getting to the good part," he said cheekily as the lock clicked into place. "Now then—"

But when he turned around he found himself pinned against the door, Pitch's hands on either side of him. Jack was caught off guard and Pitch took his lips in a hard, bruising kiss. He kissed back, enjoying this sudden change in demeanor. Pitch cupped his ass with his hands, pulling the boy upwards and into him. Jack wrapped his legs around him and pulled himself as close as he could as Pitch guided them both over to his desk and laid Jack on top of it. Jack gazed up at him airily as Pitch pulled back from the kiss.

"Are you—" Pitch began.

"Don't even bother asking," Jack cut him off. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Pitch couldn't help but smirk. "Very well." He leaned back down and to continue to kiss Jack, his mouth hot and demanding and needy. Jack wrapped his arms around the professor's neck and pulled him close. He was so caught up in kissing him that he didn't even realize Pitch had managed to take his pants off. Now it was his turn to gasp as Pitch wrapped a calloused hand around the base of Jack's cock. He began to pump him slowly.

"Pitch," Jack gasped between kisses, "please."

Pitch didn't need to hear another word. He brought his fingers up to Jack's mouth, and the boy wasted no time in wrapping his lips around them. Pitch swore that the sensation alone could have brought him to climax. But he chose not to test that theory today, withdrawing his fingers quickly. He pushed one into Jack slowly as the boy hissed beneath him. After a brief time, he added a second one, and began to tease him open.

Pitch scattered light kisses all down Jack's neck, pausing at his collar bone to suck on it lightly. He discreetly brought his hand up and spat into his palm, trying to create as little distraction as possible. But Jack saw him.

"You seem like a seasoned pro at this," Jack commented slyly.

"Now, Jack," Pitch reprimanded him, pushing gently into the boy, making him writhe a little underneath him, "You should know better than to tease your professor."

"I really thought we had something more than—ah!—an academic relationship by now, Pitch," Jack grunted as Pitch gently slid into him.

Pitch just smirked as he brought a hand up to Jack's and interlaced his fingers with his. The pleasure was so intense, and he hadn't done this in so long. Everything about Jack was so arousing. The way he pressed his ankles into Pitch's back, the way he breathed in short, punctuated gasps. He was beginning to wonder how long he would even last. He tried to thrust in and out as slowly as possible, but the pace was obviously driving Jack crazy.

"Faster," Jack moaned. Pitch had no choice but to obey Jack's honeyed voice. He began to thrust harder and faster, going deeper each time. Now he knew wouldn't last long.

But Jack wouldn't last long, either. He writhed underneath him, bucking his hips shamelessly, moaning every time Pitch hit deep inside him. Pitch's hand squeezed tighter around his cock and Jack could feel himself losing it.

"Pitch, I-I'm close," Jack gasped. Pitch only half-heard him as he neared his own climax, rocking his hips roughly into Jack and stroking him hard.

"_Pitch!_" was the only warning he received as Jack came into his hand and across his chest. His own orgasm wasn't far off as he pushed one last time into Jack and moaned. His entire body went limp as he fell on top of the boy, his frame engulfing him. He silently left lazy kisses on Jack's neck, but only in one spot as he was too spent to even move his head.

After a moment Pitch dragged himself up and eased himself out of Jack with the most tender care. As he straight himself, Jack reached an arm across the desk to grab a nearby box of tissues.

"You seem like a seasoned pro at this," Pitch remarked snidely.

Jack just shot him a joking sneer. He sighed as he began to clean up the mess they had made. "We should do this again. Maybe on a bed next time."

"I would much prefer that." Pitch redid the last button on his pants and then sat down on his desk next to Jack. The boy wriggled back into his pants and was just sitting up when Pitch leaned over and kissed him chastely on top of his head. "You're precious, Jack. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Jack blushed and shrugged his shoulders, failing to come up with a sarcastic retort. "Thanks."

Pitch looked up at the clock on the wall and then clapped his hands on his legs, making a motion to get up. "Well," he sighed, "it looks like you've kept me past my office hours. Again."

Jack grinned and laughed lightly as he stood up himself, watching as Pitch gathered his papers and neatly filed them into his briefcase. "I suppose I'll have to make it up to you."

Pitch smiled as he pulled on his winter jacket and walked over to the door. "Yes, I suppose you'll have to." With that he undid the lock and opened the door, allowing Jack to go out before he did. He flipped the light switch off and closed it behind them, leaving the dark office full of old books empty until next time.

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Oh, wow, so, hey guys. Uhh, sorry that took so long and was probably terrible. Case in point: I have never written a sex scene before. Please review and critique the FUCK out of this. I will never get better otherwise.

And thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting my shitty fan fic. Like, wow, what the hell is wrong with all of you. Go read something of EmeraldEmbers' or ASocialConstruct's. They are the gods I strive to be like.

So I'm just going to put this here and run away from the computer and any possible consequences of posting this. Hope you all had a lovely weekend. 3 Bye bye~


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